| Come all ye Texas Rangers wherever you may be
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| I’ll tell to you a story that happened unto me
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| One night the age of fifteen years I joined a royal band
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| We marched from San Antonio unto the Rio Grande
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| And yet the captain told us
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| Perhaps he thought it right
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| «Before we reach the station, boys
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| I’m sure we’ll have to fight»
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| We saw the Indians coming
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| We heard them give their yell
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| My feelings at that moment
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| No tongue could ever tell
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| We saw their glittering lances
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| Their arrows round us hailed
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| My heart was sink (sic) within me
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| My courage almost failed
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| I thought of my old mother
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| Who in tears to me did say:
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| «To you they all are strangers
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| With me you’d better stay.»
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| I thought her weak and childish
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| And that she did not know
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| For I was bent on roaming
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| And I was bound to go
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| We fought them full five hours
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| Before the fight gave o’er
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| Three hundred of our soldiers
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| Lay weltering in their gore
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| Three hundred noble rangers
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| As ever trod the West
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| We laid them by their comrades
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| Sweet peace to be their rest
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| Perhaps you have a mother
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| Likewise a sister too
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| And maybe so a sweetheart
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| To weep and mourn for you
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| If this should be your condition
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| And you are bound to roam
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| I advise you from experience
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| You’d better stay at home |